Issue 31, Winter-Spring 1964
The Twelve Piers of Hamnavoe
Those piers like huge stone feet
Stand in the ebb.
Twice a day
The god of shipwreck and creel,
A gull on his shoulder,
Turns from his whales and icebergs
To lay green blessing on them.
Or spreads his wounds around them
Threatening the nets,
Or like an old blind ghost
Folds them in love and lost voices.